The man blinked at her discussion of baked good. He did not know how to do more than make basic pancakes to be fried in animal fats or other vegetable oils. That was the extent of his baking, and it wasn't true baking at all. He had no oven nor did he know how to even begin with making bread. That required some sort of flower, rice, corn, wheat, and he had no way to get his hands on such a thing. Perhaps the AniWayans might, seeing as they had yearly harvests of corn. They might make things like corn breads and corn cakes with the flower. They had no wheat nor did they grow tall stalks of corn. Baking was hard too, needing an oven or a place where hot air could cook and rise bread. Yeast! How could he forget yeast? That stuff would make the bread rise or else it would be flat. Who had easily accessible yeast? Anatoliy wasn't even sure how to make yeast or where to get it. His family had small stores of it though and used it to make dinner buns and loaves.
"In St. Petersburg, I saw zhem use eggs with flour and ozher zhings like vegetables, meat, and seafood to fry pancakes. Zhey vere good and zhe recipe came from zhe Orient." He had tasted that pancake when he had visited the store, and it had been delightfully fluffy, properly salty, and nourishing. It hadn't come cheap though. His talking ceased as the woman handed him the chipped glass plate with his fish share on it. The scent of the spices mingled delicately with the smell of the cod. It was not a particularly smelly fish, though it did still strongly smell of the ocean for his canine sense. Picking away some of the bones (thankfully most were removed already), Anatoliy bit into the flaky fish. It fell away in his mouth, and he wished there was some butter to moisten the slightly dry fish flesh. Swallowing, he tasted the remnants of the spices and smiled encouragingly to the young woman. She had been watching for his reaction, which was expected. "Good," he said simply and finished that particular piece.
Wiping away a few light crumbs off his chin, the Russo looked at the young woman. "Russia? Russia is a land. Vas vonce a country vizh zhe humans. It's over zhe ozher sea. I came here on a large ship." Antoliy had been born there and had accidentally arrived here to find his family. It had been all unintentional, and he could not find himself wanting to return back home. No. It wasn't home anymore, was it?
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